Bloodless moon
by Dierou-Kyrou
Summary: Well, this is the first fic I've ever written... Trowa is a vampire who becomes enamored of a young aristocrat... with possibly tragic results. 3x4, nothing worse than a little shonen-ai. Note: I've just started this, and will be updating frequently.
1. Default Chapter

Prologue  
  
The darkness shrouded him, inky blackness serving as a cloak. Not that it mattered, for no one was out this late in the evening. Tonight, the green- eyed vampire stood alone. He scarcely moved, but his senses were alert as he waited for his companions to come. He didn't have long to wait. Another form congealed into being beside him, looking at him with intense cobalt eyes before it spoke.  
  
"Are you ready, Trowa?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
With these words, the two vampires disappeared into the shadows.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Quatre was inexplicably bored. He'd spent hours at this terrible ball his father had so carefully planned. He'd danced with countless ladies throughout the night, all of which had adored him for his good looks, charming personality, and, of course, the fact that he was heir to the prestigious Winner family. Quatre wasn't interested in any of them, however; to him it was sheer misery. He sighed, blowing stray golden hair out of his face. The ball was finally almost over. Quatre worked his way toward his father on the other side of the room.  
  
"Well, what did you think of it?" his father said when Quatre approached him.  
  
"I thought it was nice," he replied.  
  
"Did you meet anyone?"  
  
"Well... not really."  
  
He could tell his father was disappointed. The entire purpose of these elaborate balls was so Quatre could find a wife, but so far, the search had been unsuccessful.  
  
"What about that Peacecraft girl?"  
  
"Lady Relena?" Quatre shrugged. "She's worth considering, I suppose."  
  
He had danced with Relena Peacecraft twice during the night, and she was by far the most intelligent and diplomatic girl in the room, but she was a total pacifist, which he found quite annoying. After all, fighting must happen for peace to be maintained. Still, if he had to choose, she would probably be the best wife.  
  
"That's the closest to a 'yes' I've heard so far. I look forward to an engagement then, unless you find someone else."  
  
Quatre knew better than to argue.  
  
"Yes, Father. If you don't need me for anything else, I think I'll go walking. It's terribly hot in here."  
  
"I don't want you out there Quatre. It's too dangerous this late at night."  
  
"I'll just be in the gardens. Surely that's safe enough."  
  
"Very well. I'll speak to you in the morning." He turned and left Quatre to himself. The blonde boy sighed and walked out of the hall toward the elaborate gardens. As he paced, he thought about what his father had said. Though the man loved him as much as he could, he was obstinate and would not go back on his word about his only son finding a wife. Maybe it was because he had 29 sisters, but the fact was Quatre really didn't like the presence of women at all. The thought of marrying some strange girl disturbed him.  
  
After walking the gardens for some time, he felt the need to walk the streets. No one will be out this late, anyway, he thought as he opened one of the gates and stepped outside. There was no moon, but the darkness was oddly compelling. Quatre walked farther than he intended, and probably would have kept going, but he began to have a strange feeling. Not bad, exactly, but being naturally empathetic, he knew when to trust his gut, and he knew that someone was nearby watching him. He quickly turned around and went the direction of his house, and was rather surprised when the feeling didn't subside. Someone's following me. Terrible things were said to happen to people who wandered out at night alone, not that Quatre had ever believed it, but he now wondered if there was any truth to the tales. Still, he wasn't nearly frightened enough to run, because nothing had even happened to him yet. He made it back to his small palace unharmed and saw no sign of anyone behind him. The house was almost entirely still, other than a few servants, so he had no problem slipping in unnoticed to his quarters.  
  
Quatre went out to his balcony and looked at the sky. It was the darkest part of the night, just a few hours before dawn, so he decided that not sleeping at all would be better than sleeping a few hours and waking up tired. To keep himself preoccupied, he returned to his room and grabbed his violin, leaving the balcony door open. Playing music required full attention, which was exactly what he needed at the moment. Quatre began playing and soon became so absorbed in his music that he didn't notice when someone else began playing with him. It was several minutes before he even heard the flute playing outside his window, in perfect harmony with his own violin song. Naturally curious, he went to the open balcony, still playing for fear the strange flutist would stop if he were discovered. The eerie feeling Quatre had earlier returned. Whoever was playing the flute was undoubtedly the same person following him before. He stepped quietly outside just in time to see a tall figure below slip into the shadows, out of sight, but still present. The music still played, louder and more beautiful now, though Quatre had stopped with his violin. Something about the song was perfectly enchanting; indeed, he would have gone to find the player if a terrible fear hadn't suddenly came upon him. He knew enough to trust his instincts, so he ran inside and locked the balcony door. Taking some deep breaths, he could have sworn he saw a pair of inhuman eyes looking at him from outside.  
  
This was too much even for him. Whatever had followed him back to his house and serenaded him simply wasn't a natural being, he was sure. There was no way Quatre was staying alone any longer this night. Grabbing a lantern, he made his way down the corridor to where his sisters' rooms were, realizing how ironic it was compared to his earlier thoughts.  
* * *  
  
He had first seen the boy at the ball, which was obviously being held in his honor. Trowa wasn't the type to go to social events normally; he was here for a different reason. He had noticed the boy immediately, simply because it was impossible not to. His hair shone golden in the light, and his eyes were neither blue nor green, but a stunning aqua. He was a beautiful boy, made to stand out in a crowd. Trowa, on the other hand, did his best to be unnoticeable. He gave off a rather mysterious air, though, partly because he wore all black compared to the brightly colored crowd around him, and also due to the shock of brown hair that covered one half of his face. The vampire's green eyes glistened hungrily at the sight around him. So many choices... his companion Heero had already found a victim. Trowa saw him walking out of the hall with a young girl on his arm, "escorting her home." Poor girl. Even for a vampire, at least Trowa had a conscience. It bothered him to take innocent humans like her; he always chose people he thought deserved to suffer. True, it was quite unlikely she would die; a vampire could feed off the same human for five days with little harm to it. But that wouldn't make the terror any more bearable.  
  
He turned back to the young man he had been watching. Not the type he generally went for – the boy radiated innocence like a lamp – but Trowa couldn't stop looking at him. He wanted to keep him, but that would mean turning him into a vampire like himself, and the others might not like it. There were enough of them as it was, and another would mean more need for food, which would lead to more humans being killed, which would eventually be figured out. Still ... Trowa was sorely tempted. Maybe just this once. He left the ball alone, still hungry, but weaving a spell of beckoning to the blond boy in the middle of the hall.  
  
He waited in a cold alley, once again by himself in the dark. It was not long, however, before his keen eyes saw the boy walking towards him. He was even more stunning in solitude, and something in Trowa's soulless body yearned for him. Only a few more yards and the boy would be within his reach. Suddenly, though, he turned around and quickly started walking back the direction he came. Confused, Trowa followed him.  
  
He stood outside the boy's home wondering what had gone wrong. The spell should have worked, but somehow, the beckoning had been broken. Trowa contemplated his actions until, above him, he heard clear music. Someone was playing a violin in the middle of the night. Peering through an open balcony door, he saw that the musician was none other than the boy he had been stalking. Trowa reached for the flute he always carried with him. He had a new plan, though it was riskier, because someone else might hear him, and the place was crowded with people. Nonetheless, he began to play his flute, harmonizing with the violin, while weaving another spell, made stronger by the music. As he expected, the boy came out to find him. Trowa played louder now, his song heartbreaking in its beauty. But, once again, the boy stopped after a few steps and went back inside, this time shutting and locking the door. Trowa cursed. Somehow, his spells weren't being effective.  
  
He flew to his home, a large, deserted warehouse with boarded up windows. He was still hungry, but it was almost morning, and there was no way he could risk his life searching for food. Maybe Heero would share.  
  
Heero was there when he entered, along with their other companion, Duo. Duo wasn't a vampire, but he wasn't human either. Actually, Trowa wasn't sure what he was; not that he'd ever cared. Heero stood over the prostrate body of the girl he had taken earlier. Trowa immediately sensed something was wrong.  
  
"She's dead, isn't she," he asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, what the hell happened? Surely you didn't kill her on purpose."  
  
"Yes. I don't know ... I hated her."  
  
"You see," Duo broke in, "our brilliant friend here decided he somehow didn't like this girl, so he killed her and left us with figuring out what to do with the body. Great idea, huh?"  
  
Trowa frowned. This was a problem. The humans could not have any logical suspicions about vampires, otherwise they would leave, or worse, gather together and try to wipe out vampires entirely.  
  
"Take home, and put her in her room, with all the doors locked to the inside. Make it look like she died inside her room, alone," he said finally.  
  
"Do you think it will work?" Heero said.  
  
"Better than anything else," Trowa replied. "We have to hurry, though, before someone wakes to find her gone."  
  
Duo glared at him with his strange violet eyes. "You mean I have to hurry. You know damn well that you two can't go out there when the sun is about to rise." He shrugged and picked up the dead girl. "You owe me, Heero."  
  
Heero smiled slyly. "Anytime..."  
  
With Duo gone, Trowa remembered his own problem. "Heero... I need to talk to you."  
  
"What?" Heero ran his fingers through his raven-dark hair.  
  
"I used a beckoning spell, twice, last night. Both times it didn't work."  
  
"Was it on the same human?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Heero was silent for a while. "Maybe it was an empath."  
  
Trowa hadn't thought of that, but it made sense. If the boy he had tried to charm were empathetic, he would feel the presence of others, including vampires. No wonder his spells hadn't worked, if he could sense them beforehand.  
  
"Possibly..." he said finally.  
  
Heero narrowed his eyes. "Why did you need to use a charm, anyway?"  
  
Now it was Trowa's turn to be silent. At last he looked up at Heero. "I wanted to make him into one of us."  
  
Heero was obviously surprised. "Who's he? And why would you want to do that?"  
  
"I don't know... I just wanted him. Besides, you're the one who made me into a vampire, why should you care if I do the same?"  
  
"That's true. There were a lot less of us in the area, though. Well, what's the guys name?"  
  
"I didn't ask... I'm sure you saw him though. Teenager, short blonde hair, it looked like the ball was thrown in honor of him."  
  
"Shit! Trowa, don't you know who he is? That's Quatre Winner."  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?"  
  
"That means that even if the others let you, you could never make him one of us. He's the only son of the Winner family, and if anything happened to him, they would never stop searching. They would go on a damn vampire hunting spree, I tell you."  
  
"I'm not afraid of humans."  
  
"That's not the point, Trowa. It's about human politics. If a leading person like him suddenly disappears, it's bad for the race in general. They get nervous, and suspicious about the dark beings. Before you know it, they come in riots, determined to kill us off. I know we're not as venerable as they think, but I still have a feeling that many of us would die."  
  
Heero's speech surprised Trowa. Usually, it was Heero who held life of any kind in total disregard. Now, he acted as if he really cared about the vampire population. Why care about them? Part of their lifestyle was the almost complete isolation from everyone, including their own race. Wasn't the worst part of being a vampire that they spent eternity alone? This was why he wanted the boy, Quatre, as his companion. In the beginning, Heero had chosen Trowa to be his own, and had made him into what he was. But then, he had met Duo, and left Trowa alone.  
  
"The sun's coming up."  
  
The statement shook Trowa out of his thoughts, and he flew to his dark haven for a day of rest. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
"Quatre, what are you doing in here?" It was morning, and three of his sisters had woken up to find him sitting on the floor in their room.  
  
"Someone was outside the house last night... probably just some bum or something. Anyway, I came to your room because you don't have any windows."  
  
"Why didn't you call the guard, Quatre?" the second sister asked.  
  
"It was awfully late, and I didn't think it was too serious. I had a bad feeling that's all. I'm leaving now," he replied as he walked out their door and returned to his own room.  
  
Now that the sun was shining, it almost tempted him to believe last night was just a product of his imagination, but he just couldn't shake off the eerie memory. Quatre was certain about what happened, he just couldn't understand why. Who had followed him in the street, and why hadn't they attacked him? And why on earth had they played music just outside his balcony door? To try and lure him out? The thoughts consumed him as he dressed himself for breakfast. It surprised him when a servant came and told Quatre that his father wished to speak with him immediately. He hurried to the hall, wondering what was so important it had to be said at 6:30 in the morning.  
  
Quatre's father stood with another man in the otherwise empty room. On second glance, he realized the man was Lady Releena's brother, Milliardo Peacecraft. He instantly thought the meeting was due to the future engagement between him and Releena, until he noticed the distraught looks on both of their faces.  
  
"Milliardo, it's nice to see you, of course," Quatre said in his most diplomatic voice, "but what has happened that you come so early?"  
  
Milliardo glanced briefly at him before he stared at the floor again, and Quatre was shocked to see tears in his icy blue eyes.  
  
"I regret to inform you, Lord Quatre, that my sister is dead." The words were obviously spoken with great difficulty.  
  
Quatre was floored. The pretty brown-haired girl he had danced with only a few hours before was now dead. It seemed unreal.  
  
"But," he said, "how did this happen? She was healthy enough."  
  
Milliardo was too grieved to speak, so Quatre's father replied.  
  
"Strangely, no one seems to know how this happened. They say she was just lying on her bed this morning, with no signs of any abuse. Her doors were even locked on the inside. The only cause of death the doctors can think of is suicide."  
  
"My sister did not kill herself!" Milliardo cried, nearly choking himself.  
  
"No," Quatre agreed. He had sensed her extreme happiness last night, and knew she could not have done this to herself. "She didn't have the mindset to do something like that."  
  
"You've only met her a few times, Quatre," his father argued.  
  
"No, father. I know Lady Releena's emotions, and she wouldn't have done this."  
  
"Whatever you think. All we know is what I've said."  
  
"Were there any wounds, or anything?"  
  
Milliardo spoke up again. "She had two puncture wounds, on her neck. They were far too shallow to kill her, though, she could have gotten them anywhere."  
  
"What about poison?"  
  
"There were no traces of anything. She's unexplainable."  
  
Quatre sighed. Though he had not loved Releena, he hadn't disliked her. She didn't deserve to die.  
  
"I'm so sorry for what happened, Milliardo. I don't know what to do."  
  
"Funeral services will be tomorrow. Until then, we are in mourning," his father said.  
  
"But isn't someone going to try to find out what happened to her?"  
  
"There is very little chance of finding anything. If it was an assassination, it was very well carried out, and finding the killer would be next to impossible."  
  
"Very well, father. My apologies once again, Milliardo. If you will please excuse me."  
  
His father nodded in consent, and Quatre walked out of the room as quickly as possible without being rude. He was still in shock from the news. What could have possibly happened, that a sweet, innocent girl like her would be killed?  
  
He thought again about the events of the previous night. Could the person who stalked him have anything to do with Releena's death? Maybe they had tried to kill him, too, and just weren't successful. Quatre remembered the flute player under his balcony, and the fear he had felt when he'd stepped outside. It was quite possible that the musician had tried to lead him out, in order to murder him. Something still wasn't right, though... Quatre's head hurt from trying to analyze everything. He pushed the thoughts aside, and went to his room to change into black clothing, and prepare himself for the long day of prayer and mourning ahead of him.  
  
********************************  
  
By the end of the day, Quatre was exhausted. He had not slept the night before, and weariness was taking over. He walked slowly to his room, and was halfway down the corridor when his senses felt the presence of another person, close by. Quatre paid little attention, it could have been anyone, for the palace was always full of people. Soon, though, he realized the presence he felt was from his own room. At first he thought it was a servant, but then saw that his door was closed. No servant would ever close a door to a room they were working in. His father, perhaps? That couldn't be, either, for he had just left him minutes ago. Quatre stopped outside the door. What if it was an assassin, maybe the same person who had killed Releena? Quatre longed for his weapons, but they were inside the room. He usually carried two daggers, hidden of course, with him constantly, but he'd had to leave them today, for it was disgraceful to carry steel into a church. He stood breathing heavily for several moments, until his curiosity overcame the misgivings he had. Quietly, he opened the door and stepped inside.  
  
No one was in sight. It didn't discourage him, though, for the feeling was stronger than ever, and Quatre knew someone was in there with him. His fears of an assassin grew stronger too, for no one honest would be hiding in his chamber. Something was strange, though. Quatre had the gift to feel people's emotions, and tell what they were thinking. As for the person in this room, whether they were male or female he could not tell, nor could he comprehend the emotions they felt. All he could feel was the presence of something that seemed neither fair nor foul, but somehow foreign. Chills coursed through his spine, but somehow, they were more with anticipation than fear. This was strangely exciting to him.  
  
He looked around his large room for several minutes and saw nothing unusual. All the doors and windows were still locked, and the room was in impeccable order. Quatre cautiously searched the closets and bathroom, and was beginning to doubt himself when he heard a voice behind him.  
  
"What are you looking for?"  
  
He started in spite of himself and whirled around to meet the intruder, and was more than surprised to find a boy, not much older than himself, sitting cross-legged on his bed. One dark green eye looked amused from beneath a shock of brown hair. Quatre had never seen this boy in his life, that he knew of.  
  
"Actually," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "I believe I was looking for you."  
  
The boy smiled faintly and spread his hands open. "Well, you succeeded."  
  
"Do I know you?" Quatre asked, frowning slightly.  
  
"No, we have never met. However, unless I am mistaken, you are Quatre Winner, right?"  
  
"Yes." He began walking slowly toward his dresser, for that was where he had left his knives. "Will you tell me why you came here?"  
  
"Not for the reason you think. I'm not here to kill you, or even take you captive. I could quite easily, you know."  
  
"Yes, certainly." His hand was inches away from the dresser. "Why should I trust you?"  
  
"I never said you should. In fact, it would be wiser not to."  
  
"I think I'll follow that. You failed to mention why you're here, though."  
  
The boy paused for a moment. "I don't believe I'll answer that right away."  
  
Quatre lost his control in that minute. Taking one of the knives, he skillfully threw it directly at the stranger.  
  
His aim was flawless. The blade hit the young man's throat, slicing the windpipe and the spinal cord behind it. It should have killed him instantly. Instead, the first thing he noticed was the lack of blood. There wasn't a drop, though the knife was buried to the hilt. As he watched, the boy calmly pulled it out of his neck, and the wound instantly disappeared. Then, he smiled again, and Quatre knew. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
If Quatre had been scared and confused before, he had practically lost his sanity now. Looking at the demon creature, or whatever it was sitting on his bed, caused unusually profane words to come to his mind, and he ranted for several minutes until he ran out of words to say. One green eye looked at him amusingly. Finally, he regained some sense and could speak normally.  
  
"Who the hell are you? Why are you even here?"  
  
The creature looked down at the bloodless dagger it had pulled from  
its neck.  
  
"Trowa. I'm here because I choose to be."  
  
Quatre found himself shaking all over from shock. He sat down in a nearby chair, unusually close to the thing on his bed.  
  
"You are a vampire."  
  
Trowa nodded. "I knew you would attempt to kill me, justifiably so, and I did not want to say anything before then. You are very good with your defense," he added as an afterthought.  
  
Quatre didn't know what to say. He was silent for some time until he asked, "How do you know me?"  
  
"I saw you once," said the vampire. Quatre could see that he didn't like talking, and decided to continue asking questions.  
  
"So it was you who followed me last night." Trowa nodded, so he continued. "Why did you kill Releena?"  
  
"I did not kill anyone."  
  
"But you know who I'm talking about, don't you? One of your kind killed her, and you know who it was."  
  
Trowa nodded again, but a knock on the door prevented him from replying.  
  
"Lord Quatre, is everything alright?" It was one of the numerous guards that patrolled the house. Quatre saw the vampire looking curiously at him, as if wondering what he would do. Without really thinking, he replied, "Everything's fine. Please go away."  
  
"He won't leave," Trowa said quietly.  
  
"I know." He glared with aqua eyes at the lanky figure next to him. "I'm not finished talking to you, though." Pointing towards his balcony door, he said, "I'm going out there."  
  
He was more than a little startled when Trowa appeared on the balcony without ever crossing the floor. Ignoring his pounding heart, he sat down on the railing, glancing below at the garden two stories lower.  
  
"Aren't you afraid that I'm going to harm you?"  
  
Quatre looked toward the vampire. He was surprisingly handsome, not at all how something so evil would be thought to look.  
  
"If you were going to harm me, Trowa, you could have done so several times already."  
  
"Very well, then."  
  
"What about Releena?"  
  
"You mean the girl? Someone drained her too quickly, and consequently, she died of fear and loss of blood."  
  
Quatre shuddered, and wondered if he would be sick.  
  
"She was to be my betrothed, you know."  
  
"Were you in love with her?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well then it doesn't matter."  
  
"She was an innocent girl! Someone like her didn't deserve to die, especially in that way."  
  
"I agree."  
  
"Is that why you're here then? Surely you wouldn't want revenge on one of your own."  
  
"Certainly not. I'm here so you would know what really happened, for you, of all people, should deserve to know. What you do with the information is completely up to you."  
  
"Well then... thank you." Quatre felt slightly dizzy. Staying up for 36 hours had done nothing for his well being.  
  
Trowa could obviously tell. "You need sleep." He walked up and handed Quatre's dagger back to him.  
  
"Thank you," Quatre said quietly, taking the knife. "I suppose this means you're leaving?" He felt a vague regret, something he couldn't pinpoint exactly. "Will you come back?" The words came out of his mouth before he took the time to think.  
  
The vampire actually appeared surprised at his request. His one visible eyebrow raised slightly, and a look of confusion, and perhaps admiration, crossed his face.  
  
"If you wish," Trowa answered, short as ever. "You can expect me."  
  
He smiled and vanished into the dark, leaving Quatre alone just as one of his sisters walked into the room.  
  
"What are you doing out there?" she asked, coming to meet him on the balcony. "I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone, so I assumed you weren't alone." She looked around.  
  
"Are you spying on me now, sister?" He asked jokingly.  
  
"No, no, not like that. Actually, I came to tell you that Mister Peacecraft is here especially to see you."  
  
"Milliardo?" That was strange. Quatre thought the man would be spending the night in prayer, as was customary to do when one's relative passed on.  
  
He could feel Milliardo's pain as soon as he walked into the room. It was disturbing, for not only did Quatre sense sorrow, but fiery anger as well, which made him wonder if he had somehow offended the tall blonde man.  
  
"Milliardo ... what brings you here?"  
  
"I wanted to talk to you ... about... Relena." He spoke the words with obvious difficulty, and Quatre's heart softened towards him.  
  
"It's because, well, I think that you and I were the one's she loved most."  
  
He must have seen the look of shock on Quatre's face, for he continued quickly. "I know that you weren't in love with her, after all, you couldn't have known her all that well, but you must know she adored you. I never saw her so happy as when she looked or talked or was around your presence."  
  
Quatre felt very awkward. "Your sister was beautiful, and one of the most intelligent girls I've ever met. I admired her truly."  
  
Milliardo smiled ever so slightly, but there was no happiness in it, only a dim satisfaction.  
  
"That makes me feel better about why I came." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "Every one is saying that Relena killed herself, that there was no other way she could have just died like that. Do you believe that?"  
  
Quatre's heart constricted. He knew the truth, almost all of it, but there was no way he could tell it. Or was it because he didn't want to? Green eyes flashed in his mind, the elegant figure and smooth voice of Trowa was burned into his memory. That strange feeling came again, something he couldn't describe but weirdly desired.  
  
He shook the feeling off. Millardo was waiting for an answer, and Quatre had to decide how to reply.  
  
"No," he said at last. "From what I knew about her, I don't think she would. But there is little explanation for anything else, it seems. Is it possible she had some unidentified disease, with no outward effects?"  
  
"Perhaps, but that would be a strange disease, to attack suddenly like that. I'll tell you what I think. I think that somebody killed her."  
  
Quatre sighed. "It's not unlikely. A very talented assassin could have done the job. Actually, it's probably the closest explanation." He paused. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"I'm going to find out who did it, and cut them into as many pieces as possible."  
  
The statement, spoken so simply, worried Quatre. Even if he hadn't known what really happened to the girl, Milliardo's proposed actions would cause nothing but trouble on all accounts. Quatre had to try and change his mind.  
  
"Milliardo, I know you're angry, but trying to seek revenge isn't going to help anyone. Relena's dead; it's over."  
  
"You're wrong, Quatre," he replied. "It' too late now. I won't have any rest until I do this. I can't think about anything else. Don't you understand?"  
  
"Please, just think about it first. What's done is done, even if it's still fresh in your mind. At least wait until some of the pain goes away, won't you?"  
  
"I'll think on what you've said, at least tonight. Now I really should go to the church, and pray through the night for Releena. I would be honored if you would come with me."  
  
Quatre groaned inwardly. There was no way he could refuse, even if he was miserably tired. Trying to hide his disappointment, he smiled slightly and began walking with Milliardo in the direction of the chapel. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Trowa wandered the streets alone that night, trying to work out his confused thoughts. Quatre actually wanted to see him again. It was something he hadn't expected, and couldn't really understand. Why would the boy want to be around him, knowing what he was? Curiosity, perhaps. Maybe Quatre wanted to know more about the dead girl, though he hadn't seemed all that attached to her.  
  
The bigger question was, would Trowa ever go back to see him? The vampire still couldn't identify why he went to Quatre in the first place. It wasn't because he wanted the boy to know what happened to his betrothed, hell, he hadn't even known the relationship between them when he came. Trowa knew he probably shouldn't have told him how the girl died, it could easily cause problems later on. No, the only true reason he had purposely met Quatre was because he was immensely attracted to him. Not in a sexual way, though the blonde boy was undeniably gorgeous, but something else.  
  
Maybe it was because Quatre was an empath. Those with empathetic skills had the ability to not only to feel the emotions of others, but also to take away pain and promote healing. It was a rare and very powerful talent, and Trowa had never known another to posses the gift. Briefly, he thought about his own feelings. Most people thought that vampires were devoid of all emotion, and they were partially right, but the truth was that while they were not nearly as emotional as humans, vampires still possessed some human-like feeling.  
  
Currently, Trowa felt lost. He couldn't remember the time before he was a vampire, but he wondered if it really could have been worse than what he felt like at the moment. Heero had made him into one of them a long time ago, and he had been willing. Now he wondered why. The loneliness and self-loathing tormented him constantly. He hated what he was, hated the fact that he couldn't feel contentment and never would, and was haunted by knowing that the only way the suffering could ever end was to take his own life.  
  
His thoughts returned to Quatre. Something had been different when he was with the boy. He hadn't felt the way he did now, or any other time. He felt... calm. Trowa stopped dead in his tracks. Quatre had used his empathetic powers to make him, a vampire, feel better. Even stranger, it had actually worked. He suddenly longed to be back with there, if only to feel that way again. Regardless of what Heero and the others thought, he was going to visit that boy again.  
  
**** **** ****  
  
Heero was waiting for him when Trowa walked down the abandoned alley near where they lived. Trowa noticed him quickly, and was rather surprised to see that Duo was nowhere visible; usually, he was inseparable from Heero.  
  
"I've been looking for you," the vampire said quietly, his cobalt eyes black in the darkness.  
  
"That's surprising," Trowa replied coldly. He had been irritated lately with Heero for ignoring him, and a little jealous of his attention to Duo.  
  
Heero frowned. "You're still my companion, Trowa. I have the right to know where you are."  
  
"Since when? You don't own me."  
  
"Oh, really," he laughed. "I don't know what makes you think that. You belong to me."  
  
"Like hell I do," Trowa retorted. Where what all this coming from?  
  
Suddenly, Trowa felt himself lifted into the air. He was slammed backward into the brick wall, pain exploding inside him on contact. He fell in a crumpled heap. Dizzy with pain, he looked up at Heero, who hadn't moved an inch.  
  
"Get up," he said, and Trowa found himself standing against his will. Try as he might, he couldn't get away, either. I had no idea he had this kind of power over me, Trowa thought as he glared at the other vampire.  
  
Heero seemed to be reading his mind. "I never wanted to do that to you, Trowa," he whispered. His eyes grew cold again. "Where have you been, anyway?"  
  
"I visited Quatre Winner." Trowa was furious. He couldn't move, and obviously couldn't control what he was saying, either. He'd never have told Heero where he had been if he hadn't somehow been forced.  
  
"That's utterly stupid of you. I told you that boy is important to the humans, if anything suspicious happened to him, it would be bad for us."  
  
Trowa felt the strange paralysis over his body dissipate. Unprepared, he fell face downward, only to be caught by Heero, who held him gently.  
  
"Don't ever do this again," Heero said as he stroked the back of Trowa's head. "You can never go back to see that boy again."  
  
He held the unconscious Trowa close a moment longer then abruptly dropped him when a shadow materialized from the darkness.  
  
"C'mon Heero, you didn't have to be so mean." The figure's lavender eyes, usually bright and cheerful, were melancholy, and his beautiful face was slightly drawn.  
  
Heero sighed. "I had to teach him. He'll be fine soon, anyway." He paused. "How long have you been here?"  
  
"Long enough. Listen, Heero, I know you care about him, and I'm okay with that. You don't have to hide it from me."  
  
Heero walked up to black-clothed figure and ran his fingers down the boy's long chestnut braid. "It's nothing," he whispered. Together, the pair walked away, leaving Trowa alone in the dark alley.  
  
**** **** ****  
  
Finally, after three days with almost no rest, Quatre collapsed on his bed and sighed deeply. Today had been grueling. After staying awake all last night with Milliardo in the church, he had only time for a few hours sleep before he was awakened to attend Relena's funeral. Surrounded by mourners, his empathetic senses went haywire with all the emotions around him. At the end of the day, he was left with a splitting headache as he excused himself and retired early.  
  
Now that he was away from all the people, Quatre felt much better. He thought about everything that had happened in such a short span of time, and especially about Trowa. In fact, he couldn't stop thinking about him. Quatre had never imagined that he would be visited by a vampire, even though he had heard rumors say that they were all over the city. It was just uncanny... Finally, Quatre fell deeply asleep, and didn't awake all night, even when a pair of cobalt eyes were watching, staring daggers into him.  
  
**** **** ****  
  
Trowa awoke slowly in the alley, cold and alone. How long he had been there, he had no idea, but the sky was getting lighter. It wouldn't be long until sunrise. Painful memories of the last few hours flashed through his mind as he stood up. Heero... Heero loved him, obviously, but not as much as he cared for Duo. He was so... possessive, though ... too jealous to let Trowa try and fill the void that he was leaving.  
  
He pondered for a moment. It would really be wisest to go inside now, before sunrise. Anger flooded him, so violent it was surprising. Damn Heero for trying to control his worthless life! It wasn't going to happen anymore. Trowa began walking, heedless of wherever he was going. It didn't matter. It would all end the same way.  
  
There weren't many ways a vampire could die, but without a doubt the most horrifying way was to get caught in the sun. Skin melted away as if the very air was acid in the form of light. Eventually, all that would be left was a heap of ash. Vampires who were killed by their own kind were usually put to death in this way. Sometimes, they found themselves caught in the sun purely by accident...  
  
The first gleam of sunlight hit the city as Trowa found himself in front of walled gates and beautiful buildings. Ah, the Winner palace. He smiled at the irony, and wondered if fate had led his footsteps to this place. He needed a place to sit unnoticed. There had to be somewhere around here he could go. Trowa wandered outside the stone walls until he suddenly came upon the gardens. Here, the walls were iron rails that allowed him to see the glorious view inside. If he looked, he could see Quatre's balcony from here, just the same as he had only last night. He was so tempted to go up there again, just to see the boy one more time, but no. Heero would never let it go on. Silently, he cursed Heero again. Thoughts of Quatre made him feel worse than before, a longing of what could have happened. Sighing with despair, Trowa sank to the ground and leaned against the hard railing. This place was as good as any. Almost fitting, actually. With determination born of anger and torment, Trowa waited patiently for the sun. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
Quatre was burning in his dreams. He opened one aqua eye in confusion, but the pain didn't stop as he awoke. If anything, it intensified. Panicking, he stared at his hand, the cause of the pain, but it was as plain as ever. What was going on? He leapt out of bed, as the burning feeling slowly spread across his hand and up his wrist. It was becoming almost unbearable. He ran around his room like a madman until he was out on his balcony, somehow hoping that the cool morning air would stop the pain.  
  
Suddenly he noticed someone was sitting outside the gates, on the street. The person was far away, but there was something too familiar about that figure. Quatre had a strange feeling... then he was racing downstairs.  
  
By the time he got to the person, Quatre's arm was burning up to the elbow. It only took him a second to know who it was; Trowa. His eyes were closed as though he were asleep. Quatre paused, confused. What was a vampire doing out in the morning? He gasped. The sunlight! As he looked, he could see Trowa's hand smoking where the light hit it. His skin was burning away. Without a second thought, Quatre grabbed Trowa by the shoulders and began to drag him into the shade. The vampire fluttered his eyes and hissed softly, but made no other motion.  
  
The pain in Quatre's own arm subsided as soon as Trowa was out of the light. He was baffled. Obviously the pain he had felt was connected to the vampire's pain, but his empathetic skills should have only sensed emotional stress, not true physical hurt. Nothing like this had ever happened before. He could only ponder the reason. Quatre glanced over. One cool green eye stared at him, devoid of emotion.  
  
"Why did you do that?" Trowa's voice was very soft, almost weak sounding.  
  
Quatre frowned slightly. "I felt this pain, worse than anything I've ever known. It... it was your pain." He looked at his arm. "The sunlight was hurting me, too."  
  
Trowa's eyes opened wide in surprise, but he didn't say anything.  
  
"Why were you out here when the sun is rising?" Quatre asked. Trowa was once again silent.  
  
"Well, I'm not letting you burn here. Come with me." He smiled just a little.  
  
Trowa felt himself almost smiling too, though there was some bitterness behind it. This boy, this human wanted to help him. Again. Trowa couldn't understand it, but he wasn't about to deny it either. Part of him still wanted to die. If he did that, though, Quatre would suffer too. Slowly, he stood up.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
It was still very early, only around 6:30 in the morning, so Quatre had very little trouble bringing Trowa into the house. The only people awake were servants, and they were used to not asking many questions.  
  
"Master Quatre," one of them exclaimed. "We had no idea you were expecting guests this morning. Is there anything you need done?"  
  
"Ah, no," Quatre replied. "This is a personal friend of mine. We'll be fine."  
  
Honestly, Quatre didn't know what to do. What could he do with a vampire? He hesitantly led Trowa upstairs to a windowless lobby, and sat down on the sofa. Trowa sat opposite of him and stared amusingly. There was only a minute or two of awkward silence when there was an unexpected knocking at the door.  
  
"Who's there?" Quatre asked, nervously looking at Trowa.  
  
"Master Quatre, Mr. Peacecraft is here to see you."  
  
The door opened. Milliardo walked in, looking surprisingly haggard. Usually the man was fastidiously groomed, but he obviously hadn't been caring about his appearance recently.  
  
"The servant said you already had company, " he said as he sat down.  
  
Quatre looked around. Trowa was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"It's strange to see you this early," he replied, trying to change the subject. "What brings you here?"  
  
"I can't stop thinking about my sister. I've looked for any information, even the slightest hint, and there's nothing. I'm going crazy, Quatre. I vowed I wouldn't rest until I avenged Relena, but nothing can explain it."  
  
"Milliardo, perhaps there isn't an explanation. You need to take care of yourself, and quit worrying about revenge."  
  
"No," came a silky voice. Quatre glanced up. Trowa was standing behind Milliardo, having appeared out of nowhere.  
  
"Sometimes revenge is the only meaning of one's existence."  
  
Milliardo started. "Who are you?"  
  
Before Quatre could think of anything to say, Trowa spoke again.  
  
"Quatre hired me to investigate your sisters death. Doing so, I discovered what happened to her."  
  
This got Milliardo's attention. "But Quatre just said there wasn't an explanation..."  
  
"He was trying to protect you. But if you're serious about what you said, it is better for you to know the truth and do something about it."  
  
"You know what happened to her?"  
  
"Beyond doubt. It may seem unbelievable to you, however."  
  
"Trowa," Quatre cut in, "why are you doing this?"  
  
The vampire narrowed his dark green eyes. "Don't you want to know what happened to your betrothed?" His voice was almost mocking. Quatre was silent afterwards.  
  
"Tell me what happened to her," Milliardo said.  
  
"It was a vampire who killed your sister."  
  
"What? Vampires don't exist. How dare you mock me like this?" He was obviously angry, as Quatre had feared. Milliardo wasn't the type to accept anything easily, and this was the same.  
  
Trowa was just as cool as before. "What explanation do you want? I'm telling you the truth, and there are more than enough facts to prove it."  
  
"Why would she be killed by a vampire?"  
  
"It was probably nothing personal against her. It is common for vampires to target weak girls. Think about the night she died. When was the last you saw her?"  
  
Milliardo paused. "She was going home early from the ball."  
  
"Was she alone?"  
  
"No... some young man was escorting her home. I'd never seen him before, but he looked like any other aristocratic gentleman."  
  
"Have you ever seen him since?"  
  
"No." He frowned. "I haven't exactly been looking though."  
  
"Perhaps you should, but you won't find him. Do you remember what he looked like?"  
  
"Dark brown hair, cut fairly short. His eyes were blue, I think. He wasn't very tall, only about the height of Quatre. Are you saying this guy was a vampire?  
  
"I know who it is, and yes, he is a vampire. Undoubtedly the same that killed her."  
  
Milliardo was still incredulous. "It is suspicious about this young man, but I simply can't believe this ludicrous story about vampires."  
  
Quatre had been listening intently the entire time, and finally spoke up. "Milliardo, this may make sense, though. You said yourself that everything else is unexplainable."  
  
Trowa smiled. "Go down by the dock in the evening, and ask some of the sailors about vampires. They'll tell you more than you need to know."  
  
Milliardo stood up to leave. "I will think about what you said. But..." he turned from the door to look Trowa in the face, "what can we do if it really is a vampire?"  
He laughed a little. "We kill him, of course." 


	6. Chapter 6

Milliardo had left, and Quatre was alone in the room with Trowa. Strangely, he was angry.  
  
"What do you think you were doing?" He asked, getting up and pacing. "Milliardo is going to kill himself over this whole ordeal, and you're encouraging him? You don't even know him, or Relena."  
  
"No, but I know the vampire, Heero. If it makes you feel better, I'm not doing this for Milliardo at all. I want Heero dead. So does that man. It will be easier for me to kill him if I have help, and Milliardo's not the type of person to forget about revenge."  
  
"It sounds to me like you're using him."  
  
"Perhaps," Trowa shrugged. "No more than he will use me, I'm sure." He walked to the door, opened it, and went out into the hallway.  
  
Quatre followed him. "Where are you going?" Getting no answer, he tried again. "Trowa, don't go. Please. You can stay here, I wish you would."  
  
Trowa turned around, and Quatre noted that he looked genuinely surprised.  
  
"Aren't you tired?" he continued. "You sleep during the day, don't you? If you're going to work with Milliardo on this, it will be easier if you stay here. Besides, you can't go out during the day again; I won't let you."  
  
The familiar amused look returned to the vampire's face. "If you so desire it, Master Quatre, I will not venture out today. I am anxiously awaiting my accommodations."  
  
Quatre gaped a little. Trowa had actually made fun of him. For some reason he had never thought of a vampire having a sense of humor. Then again, he hadn't ever really thought of vampires.  
  
"Master Quatre?" he replied questioningly. "I don't think so. Follow me."  
  
He took Trowa to his own chamber and quickly shuttered all the windows to prevent any sunlight from entering. "It would probably be better if you slept here," he said. "This way, none of my numerous sisters will be able to disturb you. If I put you in a guest room and any of them knew about it... well, they can be pretty bothersome."  
  
"You don't need to worry about your sisters, you know. I'm not going to harm them."  
  
"Oh." Quatre blushed. "I wasn't even thinking about that. It's just that... any young man that comes in this house is bound to have at least seven of my sisters following him like puppies."  
  
"I see." Trowa looked around the surprisingly sparse room. The only furniture consisted of a table, a bed, and a chair. He sat down in the chair and tried to be comfortable.  
  
"No, no," Quatre said. "You can sleep there," he continued, pointing to the bed. "It's not a problem, really." He sighed, then went on. "I have to go meet my father now. Please don't go away, Trowa. I don't want anything to happen."  
  
He realized how sappy he sounded and felt a little awkward. It was true, though. He hardly knew Trowa at all, but he sensed some kind of link between them. If something happened to him, Quatre would know and it would hurt him, too.  
  
"I won't leave without your knowledge, then," Trowa replied.  
  
"Thanks." Quatre smiled and walked out of the room to go find his father.  
  
He thought about it more as he walked. Why did he feel so attached towards Trowa? Granted, he didn't want the vampire to harm himself by being exposed to the sunlight, but given his uncanny ability to appear and disappear wherever he chose, Trowa could probably leave without causing him or Quatre any harm. What was it, then? He considered the emotions he sensed from Trowa. At first, his empathetic skills could discern nothing, and he had assumed it was because Trowa was non-human. But upon further study, Quatre realized he could tell the changes in his emotions. They were strange, not like human feelings really, but recognizable. So what was it that Quatre had been sensing, that he was unwilling to let Trowa leave? Friendship, perhaps? It was true that he didn't have many true friends. Being an empath, he could always tell when people were trying to use him, which unfortunately happened quite often. Maybe the connection he felt was due to the fact that Trowa wasn't interested in Quatre's wealth, but was obviously interested in something else about him. Feeling a little more focused now, Quatre continued walking and turned his mind to other things.   
  
Trowa was terribly tired, but he couldn't rest. He wasn't used to sleeping on such a soft surface as Quatre's bed, and though all the windows were shuttered, the amount of light that still came in made him nervous. His mind was racing, too. He hadn't expected the human boy to be so kind, and part of him couldn't even grasp the concept behind it. Vampires didn't show compassion or kindness towards one another, and never interacted with humans enough to study their behavior, either. Humans were food. Trowa's mind drifted back to Heero. They had had a relationship of sorts, before Duo came in to the picture, but, even then, it wasn't the same as the way these humans treated the ones they cared about. Quatre cared about everybody, obviously even an evil creature like himself.  
  
Trowa couldn't deny that he really wanted to stay here. Quatre's strange empathetic powers were the cause, of course. Never before had he been without the soul-wrenching pain vampires eternally lived with. That innocent boy had the ability to wipe it all away, though, and did it without even a thought. It was no wonder everybody loved him.  
  
As much as he wanted to, however, Trowa knew he couldn't stay more than today. For one thing, he was extremely hungry. But the more important reason was Heero. As long as he lived, Heero would always feel Trowa's life force, and Trowa his. It was part of being spirit-bound companions like they were. Eventually, Heero would be able to find him, and Trowa definitely didn't want to be found here. Besides, if Milliardo was truly intent on killing Heero, he still could not find the vampire by himself. Trowa had to go back and at least pretend to make amends with his companion, so he could later bring the two together. As for what would happen then, he had no idea.  
  
Quatre walked in several hours later to find Trowa soundly sleeping. He breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the promise the vampire gave him, he'd still been worried Trowa would leave, and even more worried that he wouldn't come back. Not that he would be staying here much longer, Quatre knew. He sat down opposite the bed and just stared a while at the slumbering Trowa. He looked perfectly human; much paler skin than most, but still amazingly handsome. He appeared noble, actually, as though he had aristocratic blood. Quatre was suddenly intrigued. What if Trowa had been a nobleman? There was one way to find out, if he had enough nerve. Trowa was sleeping on his side, with his facing away. Cautiously, Quatre walked around to the other side of the bed and gently pulled at the back of the vampire's black shirt, noting as he did so that he'd never seen Trowa in different clothes than these, though they were perfectly clean. He peered at the space between Trowa's shoulder blades. Yes, the mark was there—a small, intricate tattoo that was the sign of a person belonging to a high-ranking family. Quatre had a similar one himself, though each was different. It had been placed there the day he was born, as was the norm. The mark was mostly for tradition, nowadays. In the past, they were used to identify true nobility from someone who was simply trying to make his own title. There was a large book, he knew, that held the name of every single person who had ever been marked, along with the particular design, but it was closely guarded somewhere Quatre didn't know.  
  
Trowa suddenly turned around and regarded him with his dark green eyes. Quatre had been expecting him to wake up, though, so he wasn't too startled.  
  
"I'm sorry I woke you," he apologized.  
  
Trowa nodded and sat up, but said nothing, so Quatre continued with what was really on his mind.  
  
"Who were you, before you became a vampire?"  
  
"I don't know," Trowa replied. "I don't remember anything about my past."  
  
"But you were an aristocrat."  
  
Trowa looked confused. "How do you know that?"  
  
"You have the mark, of course, just the same as I do. Didn't you know?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh. You can't see it on yourself, I suppose. It doesn't matter all that much anyway."  
  
"It's strange that no one ever told me, though." Trowa shrugged. "It isn't of any use anymore, though."  
  
Quatre felt a wave of pity wash over him. Poor Trowa. He always seemed so sad. Quatre wanted to help him, but wasn't even sure how. He realized that he'd been using his empathetic skills on the vampire unconsciously, trying to leech away some of the pain he felt there. He still wanted to do more, though.  
  
His thoughts were disrupted from a knock on the door.  
  
"What is it?" He asked, nervously looking at Trowa.  
  
"Master Peacecraft is here, and wishes to speak with you, Sir."  
  
Milliardo. Quatre wondered what he had discovered, if he indeed had followed Trowa's advice and investigated. Even more, he wondered how he had reacted when he found out the truth.  
  
He was very pale when Quatre and Trowa met him a few minutes later. Something had frightened him badly, Quatre sensed.  
  
"You saw." Trowa said to Milliardo, standing behind Quatre like a bodyguard.  
  
He nodded weakly. "Far more than I wanted to. Thank heavens I went in the daylight." He shuddered. "There are people, all over the city, with scars on their necks, just like the marks Releena had. From those... vampires."  
  
The rest of the conversation went much as Trowa had expected it to. Milliardo, overcome with lust for revenge, was willing to do anything to see his sister's killer die. This, combined with his newfound fear, made him an eager listener. The rest depended on Trowa himself, and finding the right opportunity.  
  
He could feel the sun going down. The approaching night soothed him, like a cool breeze on his skin. He had to leave, soon, before Heero woke and missed him again, for Trowa had his own part to play.  
  
"I have to leave," he finally said.  
  
Quatre smiled, as though he had expected Trowa to leave sooner.  
  
"When are we going to meet again?" Milliardo asked, but it was to Quatre that the question was addressed.  
  
The blonde boy looked suddenly uncomfortable and shrugged as his eyes met Trowa's.  
  
"Um... this really isn't my decision, Milliardo. You know how I feel about the whole situation."  
  
Milliardo now turned to Trowa, and waited for his answer, as did Quatre.  
  
"What need do we have for a meeting?" He questioned coolly. "I'll come to you at the right time."  
  
He walked to the door, then turned around to face the tall man's icy stare.  
  
"You just have to be ready."  
  
Authors note: Sorry if this chapter seemed too boring!! Something inside me just screamed for subplot and dialogue. The next chapter will have lots of action, don't worry. It'll make up for any yawns here . 


End file.
